by Chris Curran
I sipped my coffee, my throat so dry it seemed to have closed up. Lorna shifted forward on her seat. ‘I’ve worried so much about you all these years, you know – even though I suppose I had no right.’
I couldn’t stop my chin from wobbling, and set my cup on the coffee table, looking down and rubbing my eyes. Lorna pulled herself from her armchair and sat beside me, taking my hands.
‘Things are bound to be difficult for you for a while. You just need to take it slowly, one step at a time.’
We were quiet for a bit and I leaned back into the cushions and closed my eyes. She stroked my hand, her voice soft. ‘I’m really not sure it’s a good idea for you to start stirring up the past again. It’s bound to upset you. Couldn’t you just forget it, and get on with the here and now?’
I wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to say yes, but it was too late. I had to face it. I sat up, pulled my hand away, and moved to leave a gap between us, twisting to look at her. ‘No, I can’t. I owe it to Tom and to myself. It is difficult because I’m discovering things I wasn’t prepared for. That even people I loved and trusted completely may have deceived me.’ My heart was beating wildly. What if I was wrong?
‘Are you talking about Steve?’
‘What?’
‘Didn’t you say the police thought you took the drugs because you found out something about him that night? That something was wrong with your marriage?’
‘Yes, they did, but that’s not what I mean.’ I stood and went to the French windows. In the courtyard a robin perched on a stone bench pecking at something, his bright eyes watching out for trespassers on his patch. I took another breath and turned to her. ‘You were Dad’s mistress, weren’t you?’
One of her thin hands, shaking now, reached out towards me, but I leaned back against the window. ‘Oh, Clare,’ she said.
We stared at each other. Her dark eyes were shadowed but steady, and I looked away first. ‘So, all those years, when I thought …?’ I walked back towards her, unable to stand still. ‘All the attention you gave me was just to keep close to Dad.’
‘No, no. You can’t believe that. I loved you. I still do.’
I was almost glad to see the tears in her eyes. ‘Well you had a strange way of showing it.’
She was fumbling for a tissue and I turned away again. There was so much I wanted to say, but now it seemed pointless.
After a while I heard her blowing her nose, and as the robin flew onto the branch of a tree, head dipping up and down as he continued his fierce surveillance, she spoke. ‘How long have you known?’
‘I found an old photo of you and Dad and it was so obvious I can’t think why I never guessed. You covered it up very well, or maybe I just didn’t want to see.’
‘It was wrong, I knew that and Robert did too. But Elizabeth wasn’t easy to live with and yet he couldn’t leave her. She was so unstable there was no telling what she might have done. He certainly couldn’t leave you and Alice with her and he knew she would try to keep you from him if they’d separated. ’
‘So, when Mum died, why didn’t he marry you?’ I looked at her and saw her eyes cloud again.
‘It was more or less over by then. We waited too long, I suppose, or maybe Robert realised marriage wasn’t really for him after all.’
Obviously the decisions had all been on Dad’s side. ‘Still,’ I said, ‘you got this house.’ It was vicious, and when her hand went to her mouth, I hated myself.
She didn’t speak for a moment, then looked up at me, her eyes brimming. ‘Please, Clare, come and sit by me.’ And when she patted the cushion next to her I did as she asked.
She reached over and touched my hand. I let it rest and met her eye, fighting to hold back my own tears as she spoke. ‘You have every right to be angry with me, but please believe I always loved you. Probably more than I loved your father. But I loved him too and I’m not ashamed of that. I just wish there had been some way to be more honest with you.’ I shook my head and folded my arms across my middle like an angry child as she went on. ‘If you can’t forgive me I do understand, but, believe it or not, I’m glad you know. I hated all the lying and, however you feel about me, I shall still go on loving you.’
I couldn’t bring myself to stay for lunch because I knew I’d handled it badly with Lorna and I was afraid of making it worse. Now I sat huddled in the corner of the train carriage, wishing I’d used the journey here to plan what to say to her. Instead I’d spent the time imagining all the other passengers were watching me and worrying about how I would cope with the busy London station and the crowds outside. Why, oh why, had I been so pathetic?
As we pulled out of Charing Cross, and passed over the river, I stared at the London Eye, my thoughts echoing its endless slow turning. For the first time in my life I felt sorry for Mum. If she guessed, and I suspected she did, it must have been awful for her. Not only having Lorna invading her home, but hearing me prattling on about her all the time.
I suddenly recalled, very clearly, one incident from when I was seven or so. A friend’s mother had brought me home from school and I ran into the kitchen – which was much smaller in those days. Alice was in her high chair chewing on a piece of toast and she raised her hands to me in delight. ‘Care, Care,’ she crowed, unable to get her baby tongue around the l in my name.
I had laboured for weeks at school on a piece of sewing, rows of coloured cross stitches on a strip of cloth. A bookmark I called it, and after I had leaned in for a Marmite-sticky kiss, I began waving it in front of Alice’s face.
Mum turned from whatever she had been doing at the sink, and placed a drink and a plate of toast in front of me. ‘Don’t torment her, Clare. What is that anyway?’ She held out her hand and I gave her the sewing.
I had intended the bookmark as a present for her, but now I saw the stitches were clumsy and the edges of the cloth too frayed and, before she could criticise, I blurted out, ‘It’s for Lorna. I made it for Lorna.’
Her, ‘Oh,’ as she handed it back and turned away again struck me silent, and Alice began to cry.
When I opened the main door of the flats the hall was gloomy. I didn’t bother to turn on the light, but as I stepped inside a sudden movement made me gasp and jump back. Then I saw it was just Nic, already in her dressing gown. And as my eyes got used to the lack of light, I saw Kieran too, in shirt and trousers, but without shoes. They were standing at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Oh, Clare, you gave me a fright,’ Nic said, moving back to her own doorway.
Kieran started up the stairs. ‘Well, goodnight both of you.’
As I began to open my own door, Nic laughed. ‘Thank goodness for neighbours, eh? I’m forever running out of milk.’ It crossed my mind that she didn’t have any milk with her. But perhaps she’d already put it indoors. It was none of my business, but for some reason it disturbed me.
Back in the flat, I phoned Alice. ‘Tom’s already in bed, you know,’ she said.
‘It’s all right; I need to talk to you.’
When I told her about Lorna and Dad, she laughed. ‘But surely you realised that was the score? It must have gone on for years.’
‘So when did you find out?’
‘For sure, just before Dad died. But before that, when I worked at the office, it was pretty obvious people there knew something.’
‘But how did you know for sure?’
‘Oh, it must have been the last time I was back home before he died. Yes, it was, because I was collecting some stuff I wanted to wear for the wedding. Lorna arrived one morning while I was still in bed and I heard them arguing. Can’t remember exactly what they said, but it was obvious they’d had a long relationship.’
‘Did you say anything to Dad?’
‘Oh, no, I kept my head down, waited till she’d gone.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘There was no point. It was obviously over. And you adored Lorna. So why upset you?’
‘But weren’t you upset?
’
‘I suppose so, but it’s not as if we really imagined he was faithful to Mum, did we?’
It was strange, but I’d never thought about it. ‘I suppose not, but this was Lorna.’
There was a sound as if she was sitting down. ‘Well, that’s why I didn’t tell you. I was never as close to her as you were, so it didn’t really hurt me. And I had so much else going on at the time. I was exhausted from being on call at the hospital, and Dad and I had already had a couple of arguments about that. You know what he was like. He couldn’t understand weakness. Always thought everyone else should be as confident and energetic as he was.’
‘Do you think Mum knew about him and Lorna?’
‘Probably, and that did make me sad for her. But you have to feel sorry for Lorna too. By the time I worked at the office, Mum had been dead for quite a while and it must have been clear to Lorna she wasn’t going to get Dad to marry her. That would have been hard after waiting all those years.’
‘So, did he have someone else by then?’
‘He never seemed short of female company, let’s put it like that. The second summer I was there, a redhead used to pick him up now and then in a sports car. You could see old Lorna wasn’t too pleased. But she did all right out of it in the end.’
‘I suppose so. He left her enough to buy her house.’
Alice laughed again. ‘And quite right too. I think that was where he used to spend most of those weekends when he claimed to be working away. It was their little love nest.’
On Saturday morning, Stella said she was looking forward to the barbecue. ‘If it’s not too busy, we’ll let Harriet take over this afternoon, give us both time to get ready.’ She was in and out with deliveries, or on the phone with various anxious brides and how I managed to keep serving, and smiling, I wasn’t sure. There had been no late-night phone calls, but I’d slept no better.
Lorna, my beloved fairy godmother, had been my father’s mistress for God knows how long. They had cheated Mum and deceived everyone for all those years when I thought Lorna was the most wonderful person in the world. If I looked at it coldly it was understandable. Mum wasn’t easy to live with, even when she was well, and all her hospitalisations must have been even harder on Dad than they were on us. And he had so much charm that Lorna probably didn’t stand a chance.
I couldn’t blame Alice for not telling me because she didn’t know for sure until just before the accident. Last night she had seemed to find it almost funny and I knew my reaction was mostly to do with the fear that Lorna’s affection for me might have been faked just to stay close to Dad. But that was ridiculous. So much of what she’d done for me, even before he died, was nothing to do with him.
Stella told me to go home at one o’clock, saying she’d pick me up later. I knew I might have to ask her in, so I looked round the living room. The suitcase was still hulking in the corner and I didn’t want Stella to notice it, so I dragged it to the bedroom and shoved it under the bed. I tidied the place quickly, then had a long shower, washed my hair, and put on the new dress, and ironed a skirt and top for Sunday.
It was then I noticed the phone flashing. My stomach quivered as I clicked to listen to the message, even though I knew it would probably just be silence again.
‘Hey there, you dirty stop out. How’s things? I’m glad you’re not there because I’m hoping you’re out on the razzle. Make sure you have some for me, won’t you.’
Oh Ruby: her voice cracked something inside.
Chapter Eleven
I played the message over and over and after what seemed hours, but was probably only minutes. I got myself to the bathroom and tried to repair my face. I longed to be able to call Ruby back, to speak to her now, but you can’t ring prisoners unless they’ve managed to get hold of an illicit mobile.
When the main door to the house buzzed, I couldn’t for a moment think what it was. Then I remembered – Stella – and the barbecue – all those people. But there was no way to get out of it.
When we were in the van, Stella said, ‘It’s lovely for me to get out on a Saturday night. These past few years it’s been difficult with just Harriet and me. She keeps telling me I’ll need to be a lot more sociable when she’s gone.’
Apparently Harriet’s dad had died fairly young, six or seven years before. ‘Cancer it was, very sudden …’ I think we were both grateful for the noisy van engine at that moment, and I guessed she realised losing a husband was a topic we should avoid. So when she asked if I minded if she put on the radio, I was only too happy.
We could smell the barbecue as we pulled into the drive. I held up my bag and gestured that I would take that inside first and Stella reached behind her and handed me a big bunch of white roses. ‘Will you give these to Alice then please, and I’ll go straight round the back.
The front door was unlocked, and I dropped my bag in the hall with the flowers on top and went into the small downstairs cloakroom. As I ran cold water over my hands, I checked the mirror, hoping I looked calmer than I felt.
In the hall again I stood for a moment, breathing deeply. On the table by the stairs, next to Mum’s favourite vase, Mum and Dad smiled out of a polished brass photo frame, as if waiting for me to make a fool of myself.
‘Come on, you’ll be all right. They’re all harmless.’ I jumped and Alice put an arm round my waist, bringing with her a waft of perfume and onions.
I tried to laugh and handed her the flowers. ‘These are from Stella.’
‘Lovely. Bring Mum’s vase will you. I hate to see it empty.’
It was an ornate thing in shining copper and it had stood in the same place for as long as I could remember. As I filled it with cold water I felt for the dent I’d made when I knocked it over rushing in from school one day. I’d picked it up straightaway, and tidied everything, or so I thought, but some of the flower heads were hanging loose and the floor was still wet. Mum guessed and was angry with me, but she never noticed the dent, and I remembered that as a small triumph.
Stella’s roses looked lovely and when Alice had filled the vase she took me outside.
The others were scattered across the patio so it was less intimidating than it might have been. Alice put her arm around me again. ‘Everyone, this is my sister, Clare. Clare, that’s David, the top dog at our GP practice, doing the manly thing with the burgers.’
The large man at the barbecue gave me a broad smile and a, ‘Ho there, hope you’re hungry,’ as he waved a pair of tongs at me.
Next to him stood a younger, rather good-looking man, who also waved. ‘Nice to meet you, Clare, I’m Gavin,’ he said, his glance at Alice betraying he might be more than just a friend.
A chunky little woman with a grey bob was apparently David’s wife, Josie. A younger couple, her dark and pretty, him tall and fair, were Lesley and James, Mark’s parents. They also smiled and waved, but looked at me with rather too much interest – Lesley scanning my dress and shoes before turning on a bright beam with a flash of white teeth.
I was saved from having to do more than echo their hellos by Tom bounding up with a stocky brown-haired boy. ‘Mum, this is Mark.’ Mark looked at me with even more obvious curiosity than his parents, but I liked his smile when it came.
‘Hello, Mark. Nice to meet you.’
‘Hi, Mrs Glazier. Tom’s told me all about you.’ He reddened slightly and glanced at Tom, but my son was chattering on, asking me what I wanted to eat and the moment passed. None of the adults had reacted to him calling me Mum so it seemed they knew the basics of our situation at least, which was a relief.
The time passed bearably enough with much general chatter that allowed me just to nod and smile. I tried to keep standing, to avoid being cornered by anyone, but after I’d chewed down most of a burger and had a couple of drinks, I felt so tired I had to sit on a garden chair, unable to stop a sigh of relief, and Mark’s dad plonked himself next to me.
‘Busy week?’
‘No, well, yes I suppose so.’
> ‘Stella tells me you work with her. Flower shop. That must be fun.’
‘Yes, I enjoy it.’ Go away, leave me alone.
He took a swig from a very full tumbler of red wine, obviously not his first. ‘So Hastings, eh. I’ve always thought it’s a bit – you know – there. What’s your opinion?’
Since I had no idea what a bit you know meant I could only smile and say I liked it. Luckily, this seemed to bore him so much he hauled himself up and wandered onto the grass, where Tom and Mark were kicking a ball back and forth. He grabbed his son in a headlock, stumbling and almost pulling them both down. The poor boy struggled free, looking over at the rest of us, beet red.
‘Daaad, leave off, it’s not funny.’
I caught Tom’s eye and smiled as he raised his brows and grimaced. He picked up his can of drink, and came over.
‘All right, Mum?’
‘I’m fine. This is nice.’
He asked if I wanted anything more to eat and when I said, no, took himself off to the barbecue.
Alice sat on the lounger next to me. ‘I’m absolutely exhausted. You look done in too, but it’s been all right, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes, I’ve enjoyed it.’
She laughed. ‘You always were a bad liar, but you’ve made a hit with my friends, you know. And it’s so good for Tom to see you as part of our normal lives.’ She leaned towards me, speaking softly. ‘He seems to be more settled lately. I think he’s begun to accept things as they are.’
I looked over at him, handing Stella a drink then turning to say something to Mark’s mum. ‘You’ve done a wonderful job with him and I’m sorry I’ve been so ungrateful over the years.’
She waved her hand at me. ‘I knew how depressed you were. I mean who wouldn’t be in a place like that.’
I swallowed a gulp of my wine, leaned back, and closed my eyes. ‘I know you think I should let the past be, but I can’t. If Tom seems happy to forget about it for now that’s great, but it won’t last. Eventually he’ll start asking those questions again and I must have some real answers for him when he does. And I’ve realised I need answers for myself too.’ It was only as I said this that I saw how true it was.